Across the land of China, a thousand years have passed. Countless heroes have streaked across the night sky of history like meteors, leaving behind brilliant light, as well as tragic cries that still make us sigh with sorrow.
Shaoxing Year Eleven of the Southern Song, the Fengbo Pavilion.
Lin'an, capital of the Southern Song court in its reduced realm, was not cooled by the arrival of the End of Heat. Instead, it was steeped in an oppressive, unnerving atmosphere. Deep within Qin Hui's residence, schemes and plots flickered like venomous snakes, and the air reeked of blood and betrayal. Secret orders passed silently through shadowy corners like death warrants.
At the same time, Fengbo Pavilion, once an ordinary pavilion, had been stained red by the ancient tragedy about to unfold. Yue Fei, the pillar of the nation who struck fear into the Jin armies and dreamed of “marching straight to Huanglong and drinking our fill with you all,” now wore a prisoner's robes. His face was gaunt, but an unyielding fire still burned in his eyes. He did not fear death; he could not accept it! He could not accept a world where right and wrong were turned upside down, the unfinished war against the Jin, or his oath to “serve the country with utmost loyalty” reduced to nothing.
“The heavens see all! The heavens see all!” His cry eventually faded in the bleak autumn wind of Lin'an, leaving behind only boundless injustice and the grief of countless people of conscience. The blood shed at Fengbo Pavilion stained the backbone of the Southern Song and left an everlasting wound in the heart of a nation. Had this tragedy not happened, perhaps the map of China and the course of history would have been entirely different...
